The Proposal
by Deidara97
Summary: Need I say more? A collection of brief Johnlock fluffs.
1. The Proposal

The rush of warmth brought forth by steady nerves overpowered the chill of the bitter January wind that caressed curly locks. His mind raced with all of the possible outcomes that could unfold on that rooftop. The steady heartbeat of the bustling city could be felt under the moon's gentle glow.

The stirring mind was interrupted by his company's presumptuous tone.

"So, what is it then? Why've you brought me here?" The speaker's hands burrowed into his pockets to combat the cold. As he inquired, he noticed the silvery eyes shift defensively.

"Well, you're hopelessly pathetic at being the romantic in this relationship, so I've to step up to the plate." His gaze shifted down to his partner, and his complexion softened to a smile as his weight shifted from the edge of the retaining wall to his own feet.

"Go on." The blond nodded and tried to fight a smile by avoiding eye contact, shifting his gaze to the tar of the roof beneath their feet.

"Well, I've brought you here to ask you something…" The taller man took a small step closer so that he was well within reach of his lover. "John," an outstretched hand attempted to pull stiff arms out of the coat pockets to which the shorter man declined.

"No, no, _no._" He stood tall, shifting his weight back to his center. "This won't do." demanding eyes shot up under a furrowed brow.

The detective's heart began to race as he wondered what he had done wrong. John was enjoying this.

"On your knee." His hand withdrew and gestured at his side as he spoke firmly. The detective tried his best to stifle a laugh and did as he was told.

As he approached the ground, he readjusted his coat and gingerly reached into the breast pocket. After clearing his throat, he proceeded.

"John Ham-"

"Nh." The blond tilted his head and pursed his lips in disapproval. "I _think_ I know my name, thanks." The nervous expression fell blank as the kneeling man jumped the mental hurdle. The silver in the pleading eyes glimmered in the evening glow.

"Will you marry me?"

"For the love of God, yes I'll marry you!" The words were impatient and rushed, but they still forced an irresistible grin onto both men's rosy cheeks.

Again, a long arm reached out and successfully grabbed hold of a willing left hand. The metallic band matched the glimmer that was now visible in Sherlock's eyes.

"Come here, you lovable prick." He motioned for Sherlock to stand and when he did, John wrapped his arms around him, one around his neck and the other hugged his waist.

As the brunette nestled his chin into the crook of John's shoulder, he let a tear fall from his lashes, accompanied by a slight sniff.

"Hey, I'm supposed to be the one crying," John murmured as turned his head, pressing his lips against the warm neck.

"As I said, you're a pathetic romantic." The taller man pulled his head away far enough so that he could face the blond. "I love you, John."

"I know."

Lanky arms pulled him in tightly as his lids fell shut. He felt the warmth of the familiar breath run down his neck as his hand slid deeper into the mess of curls.


	2. You've got to be Joking

"What the hell are you doing?" The words came as a groggy murmur.

"Can't sleep." Long legs propelled the crumpled body closer. Despite the darkness, John's eyes searched for a glimpse of the man's expression. He found it hard to respond as a cold hand landed on his far shoulder and gentle breaths began to dance on his neck.

"What's wrong with your bedroom?" He peered through the darkness and waited for an answer that never came "What do you expect me to do?" The words sounded more irritated than the blond intended.

"Mh…" The arm resting on his chest bobbed up, then down in a weary shrug.

"It isn't unusual… I mean, you _are_ an insomniac." John spoke with exaggerated tenderness to compensate for his previous lashing.

"…Am I not allowed to miss you?" Soft, dark hair brushed John's neck. The blond took a moment for the pain of the sharp words to subside.

"…Sherlock, You could always just say so… 'John, I haven't seen you all day... How are you doing? …Would you like to go to the cinema?'…"

"… Would you like that?" The disbelief in the deep voice shattered John's previous pity.

"…I mean, it'd be nice every once in a while…"

"Oh..." The detective made no attempt to hide the disapproving tone. "Well, alright then… While I'm at it, let me just go change my tamp-y."


	3. Just a Dream

_What now?_

Austere eyes wriggled themselves from the grip of the computer screen as the small lamp beside the bed revealed the doctor, shifting anxiously. _I thought the PTSD would have subsided more than this. Damned therapist doesn't know what she's doing. _

Soft whispers evolved into exasperated pleas before the silent spectator thought to react. He removed the computer from his lap and placed it on the bedside table. Rolling his weight onto one elbow, he placed his arm on the doctor's shoulder and gave it a gentle shove.

"John." The unwavering voice did nothing to attract the man's attention. Another shove, a bit more aggressive. "Wake up, John. You're dreaming." The brunette shifted his weight back to a sitting position and used his other hand to slap the distressed face with increasing intensity.

The attempt only seemed to worsen the struggle. The detective rolled his eyes before grabbing the collar of the white shirt and giving the man a violent shake. As the blond hair was lifted from the pillow, blue eyes shot open in a flurry of panic. The pale arm was grasped by the confused soldier.

"John! It's me, Sherlock, you were having a dream!" The grip John had on the frail arm receded as the realization dawned on him. A sigh of relief came shortly after. "You're alright… It was just a bad dream…" John released his grip and used his hands to prop himself to a sitting position. He decided to break the silence with a clearing of his throat.

"Right… a bad dream…" He was unable to acknowledge the scouring blue eyes as he spoke and looked instead at the bedspread. The lanky arm reached out again, this time in an attempt to comfort, and rested on an unsteady shoulder.

"This isn't the war, John." Sherlock was turned around, facing him now. His neck craned down, and his eyes tried to intercept the vacant stare. "You've no reason to fear."

"I know, I know." John shot back defensively and brushed the arm on his shoulder away. He tried to squirm free from the magnifying gaze of his detective's eyes. He couldn't bring himself to tell the man what the dream had actually been about.

"…Are you alright?" He knew something was out of place. John knew he knew. But he could never tell him.

He could never tell Sherlock he had been tortured with those horrid scenes again and again. He recalled the familiar skin morphing from pale to blue, losing its warmth to John's touch. The pulse was nowhere to be found as the pool of blood grew to encompass them both. He vainly suppressed a shudder as the darkness pulled him deeper, until he was drowning in the cold blood of his best friend, the man he loved.

"Yeah... 'course I'm fine…" A feigned smile did nothing to assure the detective. "This happens... You know that." After a brief pause John reached for a hand, trying desperately to recover the warmth to his friend's dying image. He looked at the slight blush in the pale features and forcibly blinked the haunting corpse out of his mind. He cherished the faint breath on his neck and the gentle tremble more than he ever had before. Even the painful eyes that prodded him for an explanation were beautifully full of life. _I can't ever lose you again… _

"Really, I'm fine... Let's just get some sleep." John used his free hand to turn off the bedside lamp and then tucked himself back into the warmth of the comforter. Even in the darkness, the pressing eyes cast palpable concern. Sherlock moved closer to his soldier and gingerly tucked an arm under him, to which the blond complied. John still held long fingers in his own as he buried his head into the osseous shoulder.

"Thank you, Sherlock."

"…For?"

"For not being dead."


	4. Surprise!

"I've always rather enjoyed it out here..." He inhaled deeply, not worrying about the fumes of the traffic or the stench of the alleys. "It'd be tempting to buy a place out here.

"My God, you're helplessly romantic."

"Beg your pardon." John turned to his friend now approaching him from the opposite side of the car. The latest case had brought them all the way out here to an abandoned stable.

"You mean to tell me you _actually_ _enjoy_ the smell of over-sized mammal feces, the lack of industrialization, and the sense of abandonment of a place like this?" a long arm gestured towards the open pasture.

"...Well, I did..." Crystal blue eyes rolled into their sockets to the response.

"Let's just get on with the case!" By the time he had finished his sentence, he was three strides closer to the dilapidated structure. Sometimes John wished Sherlock could quit being so... well, Sherlock. But he knew that was inevitable. It was part of the deal and probably played a large role in the foundations of their relationship. John secretly _liked_ his lover's narcissism but would never admit it to himself.

John found himself sipping tea by the fire and typing away at his blog back at the flat. The case was closed and Sherlock was still being Sherlock.

Steely eyes glistened in the light of the fire. "John." The response was a small sigh.

"Yes, Sherlock?"

"I need you to retrieve something from my coat pocket."

"...Where's your coat?"

"On the rack, where coat's go."

"It's about damn time you started using that thing..." the blond mumbled as rested his lap top on the table he rose from his chair. He arrived at the coat and began diving through the many pockets. "What, exactly, am I looking for?"

"You'll know it when you see it." Dark curls bounced as the eyes looked up from the computer screen and he shot John a coy smile. Finally, John arrived at the inner breast pocket. He removed a rolled piece of paper tied with string.

"What's this?" He walked over to the sofa on which Sherlock was seated.

"Open it." Eager eyes and a smirk prodded the doctor. After rolling his eyes, he did as he was told. It took him a moment to realize what he was holding.

"Wha- I don't understand. What am I holding?" He looked at his friend annoyed.

"One bedroom, master suite, full kitchen, fireplace, on 3.7 acres. Realtor lady described it to me over the phone as 'cozy'." The detective gave a sarcastic smile and looked off in disdain for the woman.

"...You bought a house?" The doctor's face was contorted as he tried to wrap his mind around the implications of his flat-mate's purchase.

"I purchased a 'weekend home'." He again mimicked the poor salesperson.

"What? How the hell did you manage this?!"

"I woman owed me a favor, a most unpleasant Realtor."

"So you bought a house?!" John repeated himself out of shock and disbelief, but this time he was sporting a rather large smile. Sherlock simply gave him an exuberant nod, not knowing how to respond again to the same question. "Come here!" John motioned with hims arms for the taller man to stand. He immediately wrapped his arms around the narrow torso and buried his face into the warm shoulder. "Thank you, Sherlock." was muffled through the fabric of the dressing gown. Cold hands wrapped themselves around the doctor's face as he was pulled into a long kiss.

**A/N **Apologies for the hiatus. And apologies if this seems rushed. It needed to come out. Please let me know if you have any ideas for another fluff. I seem to be suffering lately. I'd love to hear your feedback and thanks for reading!


	5. First Kiss

The tension in the room was palpable. Time, space, everything was suspended for a few strenuous seconds. The hum of the refrigerator, the crackling of the fire, the familiar setting the two had shared for so long, dissolved into nothing. As frantic eyes longingly searched for reciprocation, unsteady feet subconsciously pulled the flat-mates closer together.

In all his years, the doctor had never been so overrun by his heart, now rapidly pounding and sending an overwhelming ache throughout his body. He could do nothing but cast his gaze upon those all-too-familiar features with a fresh spark of desire and passion. His usually soft eyes were now brimming with amazement and were shifting wildly as he struggled to take everything in—the way the dark curls accented the angular face, the tenderness of the pale skin, the abnormal vulnerability of his only friend. But most of all, his eyes were fixated on the detective's lips, slightly parted as if to speak yet not releasing a single ounce of breath. John was strong, yes. But his proximity to those delicate lips was far too great, and he was unable to withstand their gravitational pull any longer. Without thinking, his feet shuffled closer. John placed his arms in front of his torso to catch himself from falling into his detective's penetrating stare.

He had been concealing these thoughts for far too long. The pressure had been building for years and it was finally being released. As he reached out to catch his doctor, his breath hitched. The flurry of longing and lust and possession consumed his typically rational mind. The past few years had presented him with nothing but perplexing feelings towards his flat-mate, but in this instant, everything was perfectly clear. No one would _ever_ steal his doctor from him again. Tonight he would make that certain. The detective struggled to maintain eye contact and opted for focusing on the steady tremble in the thin lips, the lips he had waited so long to taste. He placed his long fingers on John's back, feeling his warmth radiate through his hideous sweater. He couldn't help but notice how perfectly his doctor fit into his lanky arms, and without the slightest hesitation, he reeled him in. Holding his most precious person close, the detective craned his neck, curls falling into his line of sight. He could no longer restrain the sheer bliss that swelled from within him, and a confident grin consumed his features as his lids fluttered shut and all of his fears melted away.

**A/N**

Apologies for the wait. This is literally the transcription of last night's dream


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